I Am Automaton

Chapter 6

Peter was back in the hangar outside of the Labyrinth with his platoon. They were awaiting the signal for the beginning of the exercise. No live rounds this time—paintballs only.

This meant live “insurgents” attacking them. It also meant less protection against the ID. But their side arms had live ammunition, only for use against rogue ID. Just in case.

This was the first time they were using the shepherd dogs, and Peter was not quite sure it was going to work. It would be a shame for perfectly good shepherd dogs to be eaten by zombies.

Peter signaled to Lorenzo to release the ID. The shipping container was opened, and two dogs were released. This time the flanks of the reverse Vee gave the oncoming ID a wider berth, and each dog ran alongside of the ID driving them along.

To Peter’s surprise and Lorenzo’s delight, the dogs appeared to be doing their job. They had the effect of startling the ID, who then staggered after them. The effect was a tighter funnel, which allowed the flanks to focus on their surroundings.

Once again, a soldier at the narrow mouth of the Vee breached the door and backed away as the dogs led the ID up to the front door. When the mass of ID reached the front door, the dogs quickly veered off in each direction far and quickly enough away from the herd so that their scent was lost. The ID piled into the Labyrinth after the targets waiting in the back.

The two SWEEPERS moved along the sides of the building, tracking the red indicators on their screens. This time the pigs were separated in the maze, and they were moving through the rooms.

Lockwood wanted to see how the ID would hunt moving targets rather than keeping the pigs stationary. And once those pigs would get a whiff of those ID, boy would they run. Lockwood also had them greased—his own brand of humor that only Lorenzo seemed to get.

Despite multiple field exercises with incremental improvement, Peter felt off his game. But he did his best to get focused, because if he wasn’t, people would get hurt.

As they waited for the ID to neutralize the targets, the reverse Vee was flanked by would be insurgents. The formation opened fire and was able to neutralize the insurgents without losing a single man.

Peter was starting to feel a little better about the way things were going, but he was a firm believer in Murphy’s Law and did not want to celebrate prematurely.

They heard the terrified squeals of the targets inside the structure. Apparently, the ID were having some time getting hold of them. But within minutes, the squealing turned to desperate shrieks and then silence.

When the blue indicators had been extinguished, the SWEEPERS signaled to Lorenzo, who then gave Peter the thumbs up.

Peter hit the AI kill switch. “Okay, position the dogs!”

The handler signaled the dogs to wait by the front door, and then Peter cut the Amygdala Inhibitors. The ID sprung to undead life and began to make their way to the front door after the dogs. Sensing this, the dogs began to run up the inside of the reverse Vee funnel.

The ID piled out in predictable fashion. As they shambled down the funnel after the dogs, a group of insurgents attacked the right flank but was dealt with effectively. But, with their backs turned, a small faction of ID broke off and began to pile up.

“We’ve got humpers!” Lorenzo shouted.

“Dogs!” Peter responded.

The dogs came around and began nipping at the amorous separatists. As a result, they began to disperse and chase the dogs back into the funnel.

On the way, one ID grabbed a flank member and, not recognizing him as food thanks to the suit, began to hump the poor bastard.

Lorenzo ordered a couple of nearby soldiers to assist, but Peter sent in the dogs so as not to waste a single soldier. After all, the poor soldier was in no apparent danger of being eaten, just humped to death.

The dogs were all over the amorous ID soldier, and sensing the commotion and absence of the dogs’ guidance, the shambling mass of ID began to fall into disarray, coming dangerously close to the soldiers in the flanks of the funnel.

If order was not going to be restored in minutes, they would have to be put down. Major Lewis would not be pleased.

Peter let out a string of obscenities and pressed the AI kill switch, thus ending the exercise. “Goddammit!”

Lorenzo ran up to Peter confused. “Lieutenant, why did you…”

Peter threw down the AI controller and stomped on it. “Goddamned humpers! Ruined a perfectly good exercise.”

“But Lieutenant, we could have…”

Peter put up his hand to silence Lorenzo, and Lorenzo knew better than to continue his line of questioning. There would be plenty of opportunity for discussion during debriefing.

Peter walked up to the humper, which was now standing immobilized, and he pushed the victimized live soldier aside. He then hit the humper in the face with the stock of his shotgun. “Lousy son-of-a-bitch.”

The thoroughly humped soldier stood aside and watched with wide eyes. The humper did not move or register pain.

Lorenzo walked up behind Peter, and the soldier standing aside flashed him a look of concern.

“Freaking moron…,” Peter continued, insulting the ID.

Peter hit the humper in the gut, doubling it over from the force of the impact rather than pain, and then he brought the stock down on to the back of its head.

“Lieutenant…,” Lorenzo put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter shrugged it off impatiently and pushed the doubled over ID to the ground. “There’s a few of you in every goddamned batch…”

Peter began to kick it in the ribs. The whole time it never responded. It only laid there like a crash test dummy.

Lockwood had run out into the field. “Lieutenant Birdsall, stand down.”

Peter ignored him and kept kicking the sprawled out ID.

“LIEUTENANT BIRDSALL, STAND DOWN.”

Peter kept kicking it in the ribs and the head, unfazed by the crowd that had gathered around him staring in shock as he, their commanding officer, lost his cool.

Peter jumped out of his skin at the sound of Lockwood’s pistol shot up into the air. He stood there foaming at the mouth and panting heavily.

Lockwood holstered his sidearm. “Birdsall and Lorenzo, debriefing, NOW.”

Peter took off his helmet and hunched over the downed ID, collecting himself. Lorenzo shot him a look of stern disapproval and headed for the debriefing room.

Peter looked around at his platoon. They were all looking at him with a mixture of concern and fear.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and he walked off to the debriefing room.

This time only Lorenzo and Lockwood were in the debriefing room. Lorenzo was seated, and Lockwood was standing at the front of the room. Peter took his seat next to Lorenzo, who sat irritated in silence.

Major Lewis then stormed into the room, passed up his seat at the desk in front, and stood directly in front of them. “Jesus tap dancing Christ. What the hell just happened out there?”

Lorenzo sat in silence, waiting for Peter to offer up his explanation. Peter knew he had to be the one to explain.

“Sir, as the ID were leaving the structure and following the dogs down the funnel, a small group of five ID split off and began humping. Sergeant Lorenzo wanted to allocate two men from the flank to address the ID, which in hindsight was probably the best solution.”

“But…”

“But I did not want to detract from the protective flank, in case any more insurgents were going to attack, and I didn’t want any of the humpers wasted, so I sent in the dogs. The dogs broke up the pile, but one ID began to hump a soldier on the flank.”

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly and continued.

“The dogs responded on my command, resulting in a loss of control of the remaining ID in the funnel. So, I saw it fit to hit the Amygdala Inhibitor kill switch and end the exercise.”

“Is that how it happened, Sergeant Lorenzo?”

“Yes, sir, exactly as Lieutenant Birdsall said.”

“Do you disagree with his call to terminate the exercise?”

“Well, sir, I-I…”

“Spit it out, son.”

“I believe that we could’ve sent the dogs back out to regain control of the remaining ID, and we could have dealt with the one humper, sir. It wouldn’t have been our smoothest execution, but we would have completed the exercise.”

Major Lewis was glaring at Peter during Lorenzo’s report. “Lieutenant Birdsall, explain to me what happened after the exercise terminated.”

Peter gulped and again cleared his throat. His mouth was dry as a bone. “I-I kind of lost it, sir.”

“Lost it? You assaulted one of the ID.”

“Pardon, sir, ‘ assaulted’?”

Peter regretted his question as soon as it escaped his lips.

Major Lewis bore down on him like a parent reprimanding a recalcitrant child.

“You struck the ID soldier with the stock of your shotgun repeatedly, threw him to the ground, and proceeded to kick him while he was down. That’s assault in my book.”

Against his better judgment, Peter challenged the Major. “But who exactly did I assault? It’s not like it was a person.”

Major Lewis rested both palms on Peter’s desk and leaned in.

“You assaulted an Insidious Drone soldier, a member of the United States Army, an egregious breach of decorum during a combat exercise.”

“I beg your pardon, sir…”

Lorenzo shook his head in exasperation at Peter’s stubbornness as he looked down at his desk.

Peter continued. “But the ID are instruments, like jeeps or tanks. Can one assault equipment?”

“Lieutenant, if I were to witness you kicking a jeep repeatedly during a combat exercise, I’d send you for psychological evaluation. Speaking of which, after you change, I want you to report straight to Captain London. I’ll inform her of what happened and tell her you’re coming. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal.”

“Dismissed.”

Peter and Lorenzo were changing in the locker room. Lorenzo was silent and doing his best not to look at Peter.

Peter broke the silence. “I’m sorry about what happened out there today.”

Lorenzo finished pulling a fresh shirt over his head. He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not just the dogs and terminating the exercise, Pete. You shouldn’t have done that to the humper.”

Peter snickered at the remark. “It’s not like it felt anything.”

“Pete, it’s still not right.”

“It’s not human, Mike.”

“Well it was at one time.”

“But it’s not now. It’s only a corpse. A walking corpse. It has no thoughts or feelings. It has no soul.”

“That doesn’t give you a right to beat on them. They’re not slaves.”

Peter could not believe what he was hearing. “Slaves? They’re objects, Mike.”

“They’re Americans…or at least they once were. They deserve better.”

“What are you talking about? They deserve better? We’re sending them after greased pigs. We’re training them to go into caves to be shot at.”

“It still doesn’t give you the right to beat on them.” Lorenzo closed his locker. “Perhaps you should discuss this with Captain London.”

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Lorenzo sighed. “I know, Pete. Just get your head screwed back on right. Okay?”

Peter nodded. Lorenzo slapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room.

On the way to Captain London’s office, Peter wondered what Apone would’ve thought about his treatment of the ID. Would he have seen him as a cruel master beating on his slaves?

Peter knew that slaves were human and they had rights, and that slavery was wrong and constituted an ugly chapter in American history. The whole concept was so primitive.

But was that what the use of ID was? Was this slavery? He had so many questions, and he was actually glad he was having a session with Captain London.

When he entered her office and sat down in his usual seat, he hit the ground running. “So I assume Major Lewis…”

“Yes, he did. Do you want to explain what happened?”

So Peter launched into his report, consistent with what he told Major Lewis during debriefing. She listened patiently, her poker face devoid of judgment which made it that much easier for Peter to relate.

When he finished, he waited for her response, but she only looked at him expectantly. He was anxious to hear her feedback. “Well…”

She just looked at him. She did not appear angry like Major Lewis, nor did she appear shocked like Sergeant Lorenzo. She just waited.

“So you’re not going to answer me?”

“You haven’t told me everything yet.”

“What else is there to tell?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Damn she was good. “All right. My brother Carl enlisted last week.”

She smiled wryly. “Ah, so that’s what this is all about.”

“No—kind of—yeah, I guess so.”

“You seem angry, Peter.”

“I-I just wanted better for him. I want him to be safe.”

“Peter, he’s his own man, capable of making his own decisions. He chose a path, a path that was good enough for you.”

“But he can do better.”

“Really? Peter, I’m a little insulted.”

“Insulted?”

“You heard me. What is better than sacrificing to serve your country, to protect your loved ones?”

Peter was a bit embarrassed. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“Peter, you can’t protect Carl anymore. He needs to look after himself. Besides, he might surprise you.”

Peter’s anger seemed to melt away with this newfound insight. His anger was a way to take charge and protect his brother, but they weren’t little kids anymore. He no longer needed protecting.

“Okay, but getting back to what happened during the training exercise today…I’m a little weirded out by Lorenzo’s reaction.”

“Not Major Lewis?”

“No, I get his point. It was a total breach of etiquette during a combat exercise. But Lorenzo appeared to…”

“Feel bad for the ID you beat up?”

“Yeah. Should I have felt bad? I mean, he said I beat it as if it was a slave.”

“Is that what you feel it was like?”

“No…but I’m not so sure. I don’t believe in slavery, but that ID is not human. It has no rights.”

“So it’s just a tool?”

“Yeah. I guess so. Something like that. So why do you think Lorenzo was so upset, Doc?”

“Perhaps to him it was a matter of decency.”

Peter couldn’t believe it. Not her, too. “Decency. Decency. What is so freaking decent about a zombie anyway? In fact, it is the complete opposite of decent. It’s unholy.”

Captain London sat back in apparent satisfaction with his statement. “Ah, at last we came to this point. I thought you’d never get around to it.”

“What point? That the ID are unholy?”

“Is that how you view it?”

“Can you please stop answering my questions with other questions? It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Peter, you are going to have to come to terms with what you are doing in this program. Is it unholy? Is it an abomination? Or is it technological application?”

“I don’t know anymore. I’ve never really given it this much thought.”

“Too preoccupied with thoughts of revenge that you never stopped for a moment to consider, really consider, exactly what it was you were doing.”

“Help me, Doc. I don’t know what to make of any of this.”

“Well, let’s start with what your views on death are.”

“Well, I’m not religious. You know that.”

“So, you still must have some idea about death.”

“Well, I don’t know if I believe in a heaven or hell.”

“So what do you think happens?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we just cease to exist.”

“Okay. Snuffed out like a light. What about a soul?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And what would happen to the soul?”

“Maybe it gets reabsorbed into the universe.”

“Good. So what of the body left behind?”

“I-maybe it rots in the ground.”

“What about cremation?”

“Makes no difference to me. I won’t care if I’m dead.”

“So what’s the quandary about using bodies to hunt terrorists?”

“Lorenzo thinks it’s indecent.”

“Well, what about organ donors? What if you needed a kidney and someone was good enough to kick the bucket and give you one? Would it be indecent for you to accept it?”

“No, of course not. But we’re not sending the kidney into caves to get shot by terrorists.”

“Really? That kidney goes wherever you are, does it not?”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t we send you into situations where you are shot at?”

“I guess.”

“Peter, so what if the ID are, for all intents and purposes, the ultimate organ donors, as in they donate all of themselves?”

“I-I guess…but is that what happens? Do these people give permission?”

“Does it matter? As you said, it really doesn’t matter what happens to the body after death.”

Peter thought about his mother and his friend Delroy Apone. “Well, I’m not sure I’d completely agree with that.”

She gave a wry smile again. “Oh, so we’re back to decency again.”

Peter huffed in exasperation. “Are you enjoying this? Because I hope you are. Somebody has to be enjoying this, because I’m not.”

Captain London chuckled.

“Go ahead, laugh at me, Doc. Do you torture all of your patients this way with your circular arguments?”

“No, just you, Peter. And those are your own arguments. I’m just helping you see your own arguments.”

“So I’m supposed to figure this out on my own. Is that it?”

“Actually, the fact of the matter is that the army sees it fit to use reanimated, soulless bodies to hunt and kill terrorists. And that should be good enough for you.”

“And what happened today?”

“You obviously don’t feel right about what you did. Don’t damage army property.”

“So now they’re property?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing more?”

“What more you ascribe to the ID is based on your value system. Just remember that they belong to the army and are to be respected, if only for that purpose. If you want to apply decency to the scenario, then do so, but don’t go to the other extreme and wind up getting attached to any of them. They’re not pets.”

Peter put his hands up. “Oh, I know that. I’m not that confused.”

“All right. Something to think about.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

Peter stood up, saluted, replaced his headgear, and left the office.

As he strolled back to the barracks, his head swam with questions, hypotheses, and possibilities. He was not only beginning to sort out his feelings about the ID; he was sorting them out about death as well.

He thought about his mother and Delroy Apone, and where they were. He hoped there was something better for them than this world. If life did indeed cease at death, at least they felt nothing. At least he hoped so.

He wondered how he would feel if the reanimated corpses of his mother and Delroy Apone served as ID. The notion worked on an intellectual level, but the decency of such a thing gnawed away at his conscience.

He went to sleep that night unsettled, and he consequently had a fitful slumber with visions of his mother, his friend, and zombies and terrorists dancing in his head. He soaked his sheets with sweat as he tossed and turned, struggling against frightening apparitions and their wrath for letting them die.

When he woke sometime around 03:00, he sat there and shivered in the dark, alone with his guilt as the early hours of morning wound down at a slow, cruel pace.